"Warmaster," the villip-choir tactician interjected judiciously.

"Communication from Supreme Overlord Shimrra."

Nas Choka turned to the array and genuflected in front of Shimrra's dedicated villip. Everyone else in the command chamber kneeled, with foreheads pressed to the deck.

"It bodes well, Dread Lord," Nas Choka began. "We will deliver victory to you this day, or die in the attempt."

"Better for you, Warmaster, that you die delivering victory."

"Understood, Lord." Shimrra's villip spoke again. "You have my blessing, and the blessings of the G.o.ds. Yun-Yuuzhan and Yun-Yammka soar at your sides, as your right and left hands."

"I sense their presence, Great Lord."

"Does the enemy cower before us?"

"For the moment their fleet holds fast."

"Then they have mustered the courage to meet us toe to toe? It will be their downfall. You have my full confidence, Warmaster. I leave you to your business."

The dedicated villip inverted to its original leathery appearance.

Nas Choka rose and paced to the transparency to observe the matched fury of coralskippers and starfighters, yorik-vec and Scimitar bombers.

"Sovv and Kre'fey are fighting with their minds, not their bodies,"

he said to the chief tactician. "They are the smaller individual who engages a larger one. Even if he is swift enough to get inside his opponent's defenses, his hands are too small to cause severe damage, and his muscles lack the power to bring his opponent to his knees. So he plans more carefully. Perhaps he goads the bigger warrior to swing first and miss, hoping then to unbalance him with a precisely timed shove or kick to the knee. Or perhaps he brings his equally small friends to stand at his back, and he strikes first, confident that his cohorts will be ready to find openings. He offers them as a distraction, so that when the larger warrior risks a glance to the right, a blow arrives from the left." Nas Choka's expression hardened. "This battle is not the last stand. It has nothing to do with honor or a willingness to meet death.

This is a feint. Fortunately, I have my suspicions about where the would-be surprise blow is coming from. "

The tactician nodded knowingly. Nas Choka turned to the villip-choir mistress.

"Alert domain groups Shen'g, Paasar, Eklut, and Taav. On my command they will separate from the armada and prepare to go to darks.p.a.ce."

She bowed.

"To Toong'l and Caluula, and from there to Yuuzhan'tar."

Nas Choka sneered.

"Play with your villips, Mistress. Leave strategy to those who live to fight." He summoned the chief tactician forward. "Command her, tactician."

"To the Perlemian Trade Route," the slight Yuuzhan Vong told the villip mistress, "and from there to Contruum!"

Leia was still in shock when the three surviving warriors led her, Kyp, Page, Wraw, and Meloque into the yammosk installation. Sa.s.so and Ferfer had been left to die in the forest. Han they dragged behind by his wrists, like a slaughtered animal. He was alive but unconscious or comatose from the venom delivered by the warrior's amphistaff. Even in her dread, however, Leia was not too oblivious to notice that only one weary guard was posted at the minshal's eastern dilating membrane, and that the membrane itself looked thin and weak, and oozed a viscous liquid.

The guard struggled to rise as the trio of warriors approached.

Barely strong enough to cross his arms in salute, he said something to them in a feeble voice.

"He's telling them that the commander is waiting," Page translated quietly.

One of the warriors stumbled a bit as they crossed the threshold into the gloomy interior of the minshal. Oddly, he was the only one of the three who hadn't been wounded during the brief action. Kyp noticed the stumble as well.

"Something's not right." He received a hard jab in the ribs for speaking.

Inside, the smell of rot was overpowering. Pools of sallow liquid had collected on the spongy floor, and the bioluminescent wall lichen was rashed with black spots. Thousands of dying arachnidlike insects-similar to the ones Leia had seen in the living cofferdam-crawled about in seeming confusion. Dead flitnats littered the ground. A female shaper was borne into the antechamber on a litter, carried by two more of the squat, dark-complected warriors. Her skin was as pale green as Leia's falsely colored face, and the many-fingered hand that had been grafted to her wrist hung limply at her side. The warriors shoved Leia and the others forward, and rolled Han onto his back nearby.

Leia's heart leapt when she saw him stir. The shaper was addressing the warriors from atop her litter.

"She's congratulating them on capturing us," Meloque whispered to everyone. "She says we will contribute greatly to the sacrifice."

The shaper called two of the troops forward and spent a long moment looking them over, inspecting their faces, limbs, and torsos. One of the warriors indicated a tumorlike growth on his neck, and dropped to one knee at the foot of the litter, in what appeared to be humiliation.

"What's going on?" Kyp asked Meloque.

She listened for a moment.

"The warrior thinks he has become a Shamed One, because his body is rejecting some sort of... enhancement he received." Meloque listened for a moment more, then added: "The shaper's telling him that he is not Shamed. That the growth of the tumor has nothing to do with the G.o.ds, and everything to do with this world-everything to do with Caluula."

"Caluula?" Page repeated in bafflement.

The warrior looked relieved. Rising, he drew his coufee and turned toward Leia, only to be restrained by the shaper's touch.

"He wants to kill us," Meloque explained.

"I got that much," Kyp said. "She's rea.s.suring them that we will die before sunset."

"That's a relief," Wraw said. "For a minute I thought they were going to let us go."

Kyp glanced at the Bothan.

"Get out all your jokes while there's still time."

The shaper was speaking again. Leia recognized the word Yuuzhan'tar. Meloque translated.

"She's ordering the special warriors-the slayers, she calls them-to return her to Yuuz-to Coruscant immediately. She says it's imperative that she apprise her master of what has happened here to render everyone ill. She is promising the slayers that the commander is going to see to us personally."

"Yun-Harla succors me in my time of need," a male voice said in Basic. The accent was familiar to Leia, and clearly to Page, who craned his neck to see who had spoken. A tall, rail-thin Yuuzhan Vong elite entered the antechamber, his scarified arms draped in support around the shoulders of two large but plainly enervated warriors.

"Welcome, Jedi, Ho'Din, and Bothan. And to you, Captain Page. Did I not promise that I would see you on a funeral pyre?"

Leia suddenly recalled where she had seen him before-aboard the Yuuzhan Vong convoy vessel. It was Commander Malik Carr.

TWENTY-FIVE.

With the armada's rotation, the distal ends of several tentacles had whipped themselves into ensnaring loops. Starfighters trapped in the loops twisted and swerved to avoid scudding coralskippers, but they were fast running out of maneuvering room. The overwhelmed deflector shields of Jaina's X-wing were barely viable, and Cappie was probably beyond repair. Each tongue of plasma or missile of molten rock landed like a punch. Despite the harnesses that fastened her to the padded seat, she was flung like an insect trapped in a shaking bottle.

Singularities yawned to all sides, ready to swallow anything she launched, but that hardly mattered, since the starfighter's fire-control computer had yet to shed enough heat to come back on-line. A numbing explosion jolted the ship. Jaina glanced out the right side of the triangular canopy to see the mated ends of the starboard S-foils disintegrate, and the laser cannon go whirling off into s.p.a.ce.

The power of the blast sent the starfighter into a wing-over-wing roll that the fusial thrusters and att.i.tude jets were unable to correct.

Flights of coralskippers pinwheeled in front of her, and fireb.a.l.l.s geysered inward on spiraling trajectories. The out-of-control tumble reeled her out of a follow-up deluge of plasma from the core formation of capital ships.

The E-wings took the brunt of it, along with Ijix Harona's Scimitar Squadron of highly vulnerable A-wings, and Gavin's Rogues. Caught by the inferno, two dozen craft were blown clear of the tentacles, half of them vanishing before they reached clear s.p.a.ce. Farther out, Star Destroyers and attack cruisers raced alongside the armada, but with so many starfighters churning between them and the enemy war vessels, they couldn't risk firing without destroying countless Alliance craft. Jaina's flailing right hand found the inertial compensator and dialed it to maximum.

As the c.o.c.kpit instruments came back into focus, she saw that the display screens were white with noise. The battle net was unadulterated static.

"... around to bearing... ecliptic..."

Jaina tweaked the comm controls to find a clearer frequency.

"... on squadron leaders and withdraw."

Withdraw, Jaina thought. Fine for those pilots who could. But scores of fighters were incapacitated, many in worse shape than Twin Suns One. Only by virtue of their marginally intact shields were they bearing up under the constant barrage, like bar brawlers curled on the floor against repeated kicks from gangs of opponents.

"Dovin basal singularities have been diverted to the forefront of the armada," Alliance control was saying. "Destroyers will be attacking the flanks in an attempt to induce the dovin basals to shift focus, so that Harbinger, Guardian, and Viscount can resume fire. All pilots, try to maintain formation on withdrawal. Rally at six-six-one ecliptic with battle groups Iceberg Three and Four."

By then the armada had moved well past the system's captured comet and was bearing toward Sep Elopor, a ringed gas-giant with more than thirty small moons. Auxiliary battle groups in advance of the tentacled cl.u.s.ter were already beginning to disperse, in part to deflect the battle from Mon Calamari itself, but also to convey the impression that the Alliance had recognized that it was outmatched and was on the run, determined to save as many of its ships as possible.

A third surge of plasma spewed from the armada core. Jaina called on the exhausted thrusters to propel the X-wing out of its tumble and through a broad bank. At the same time, she reset the inertial compensator and got her bearings. She was still inside the kill circle of coralskippers and pickets, but Chiss clawcraft and Y-wings were hammering away at the slowly contracting perimeter, creating exit holes for the trapped starfighters. Jaina saw Jag's clawcraft destroy three coralskippers in a blur of corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g maneuvers and laserfire.

She sent him silent grat.i.tude. With firing zones opening once more, bombers followed the rescued starfighters into the gaps they fashioned.

In response, coralskippers were commanding their dovin basals to deploy defensive voids to counter the infiltration. No sooner did the gravitic anomalies shift, however, than Harbinger and Guardian strobed salvos of ranged-weapons fire against the least defended of the tentacles.

Coralskippers were lanced and vaporized, pickets fractured and cracked open like seedpods, expressing puffs of atmosphere and more.

Free of the enclosing tentacle at last, Jaina searched for the rest of her squadron. Twin Suns Four, Five, Six, Nine, and Ten were nearby, but she had no means of communicating with them. She reached out with the Force for Lowbacca, Alema Rar, Octa Ramis, and the Wild Knights, hoping that they would be able to interpret her distress call and relay her message. But it was Jag who arrived. Twin Suns' X-wings were suddenly forming up on Jag's clawcraft, and he in turn was leading them to her.

The fighting was the most intense at the perimeter of the fluttering tentacles.

Alliance frigates and corvettes were trading fusillades with Yuuzhan Vong escort vessels and cruiser a.n.a.logs-mataloks-opening dozens of new fronts along the flanks of the cl.u.s.ter. Starfighters and coralskippers pursued one another through blinding volleys of fire, as the capital ships continued their long-distance duels. Even so, the armada managed to maintain its yammosk shape. Then, without warning, three groups of enemy war vessels peeled away from the core, carrying countless coralskipper tentacles with them. It was as if the yammosk had undergone mitosis. Jaina considered briefly that the Yuuzhan Vong had decided to divide the battle into separate arenas.

Instead, the coralskippers of the newly created flotilla began to return to the waiting arms of their carriers, in a kind of reverse deployment.

"Three battle groups have detached from the main cl.u.s.ter," Alliance control reported over the battle channel. "Coralskippers are withdrawing.

Monitoring the new cl.u.s.ter for possible microjump to Mon Calamari.

Primary planetary defense is at Code Red, with all shields raised.

Iceberg Three attack squadrons will regroup and stand by for jump coordinates."

Jaina watched the smaller of the two cl.u.s.ters streak sunward and disappear.

"Enemy secondary has jumped. Waiting for verification of hypers.p.a.ce vector."

Jaina's breath caught in her throat. If the new cl.u.s.ter jumped directly to Mon Calamari-"Iceberg Three attack squadrons are re-formed and in position..."

Jaina waited in her crippled ship. Time seemed to drag out, even while the battle continued to rage around her. Then the voice of control returned: "Vector confirmed. Secondary flotilla has jumped for the Perlemian Trade Route. HoloNet transceiver ships at Quermia transit point are under attack. Primary flotilla is accelerating for Sep Elopon and Mon Eron. All starfighter wings regroup."

Out of the fight, Jaina pivoted the X-wing to starboard in an effort to observe the re-formation of the scattered squadrons. Twin Suns survivors were flying with Rogue Squadron, and Blackmoon and Scimitar were similarly mingled. Vanguard was down to six clawcraft, but Jag was still leading them. She sent him luck as the fighter wing streaked off to reengage. Then she coaxed what life she could from the damaged fusial engines and crippled shields and followed him.

Under guard of six warriors who could barely stay on their feet, Team Meloque, including Han, had been herded into the yammosk chamber and left there to marinate in blorash jelly while the female shaper and the cadre of slayers departed Caluula. From deeper inside the minshal had come the sounds of at least three craft lifting out of their berthing s.p.a.ces. An hour had pa.s.sed since then, and something strange was beginning to happen to the blorash jelly. Though it had held everyone fast when they had first been thrown into it, the jelly was losing viscosity. When it liquefied to the point that Leia could sit upright, she immediately started to crawl on hands and knees toward Han, who had been returning slowly to consciousness the whole while.

The first words out of his mouth were "What stinks?"

Leia ignored the question and clamped her arms around his chest, hugging him to her. He blinked, stretched his eyelids open, blinked some more, and began to glance around.

"You're getting blorash all over us." Leia put her face close to his.

"Just my way of making sure we stay together-no matter what else happens."

"Welcome back to the fun," Page yelled from across the chamber.

Han raised his right hand in a curt wave to the captain, Kyp, Wraw, and Meloque, who were more or less sitting up in the adhesive pool. He cut his eyes back to Leia.

"You want to tell me about the what else part?"

"Commander Malik Carr plans to sacrifice us to the yammosk."

Han looked past Leia to the circular yorik coral basin that housed the creature, then beetled his eyebrows in uncertainty.

"Malik Carr..."

"From the Peace Brigade convoy," Leia said. "The one who promised Judder that... well, that something like this would happen."

Han grimaced.

"Could be worse. I mean, at least we're away from those blasted flitnats."

Leia shook her head at him in a tolerant manner.

"It doesn't take you long to get back into character, does it?"

"Hey, I know this role by heart." He smiled weakly, then grew serious. "But tell me something. How come I'm supposed to be dead, and instead all I've got is numb lips, a sore throat, and a headache?"

"We're not sure. But the reason has something to do with Caluula."

"They picked the wrong planet to occupy," Wraw said, moving toward them. His fur rippled in a kind of delight.

"Everything's sick," Leia went on. "Not just the winged-stars.